


Light And Pain

by robertstanion



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Colours, M/M, Memory Loss, Metaphors, Symbolism, and my writing goes haywire during descriptions, big words, i swear i have an advanced vocabulary, so much descriptive writing, well i mean this was compulsary language paper 1 q5 practise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26483131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertstanion/pseuds/robertstanion
Summary: When they awake in a dark alleyway with no sight of home, and no memory of who they are, do they manage to return to their normal life?
Relationships: Xander Lee/John McNamara
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Light And Pain

**Author's Note:**

> because i'm yr 11 now, for english intervention, we had to practise language paper 1 question 5. for those who don't take gcses, language paper 1 is fictional text, and q5 is to "create a piece of fictional work based on an image." The image i got for practise was of an alleyway, which is better compared to a fucking snowglobe i got in my mock exam in february fucking christ, anyways, please enjoy!!!
> 
> and yes i know it's shorter, but it's for an exam paper, not for life luvs xoxo

All they could think about was how much their head hurt. They rubbed their eye with their fist, a sharp burst of pain slamming into the back of their mind. They flinched and drew their hand away, finally opening their eyes. Only then did they realise that the scene around them was unfamiliar. Was this home? It couldn’t be, could it? Home was _not_ an alleyway with the sky a purplish grey overhead. They moved and found their clothes sticking to them. They twisted their arm into better light and saw that they were soaked through to the bone. They sighed, and carefully stumbled to their feet as water splashed on to the cuffs of their jeans, soaking them further. ‘It had to have rained, they thought, otherwise why would I be soaked?’ With a strained groan, they leaned against the wall trying to think back to the last memory they could, but were unsuccessful. From where they were, home was so distant, and only a blurred image that stuck to the back of their mind. They went to caress the pain that was slowly growing in the back of their neck, and was met with a burst of whitish yellow light. Remembering was _not_ going to be easy.

Gaining courage, they walked away from the wall they were leaned again. Though they may not be walking in a straight line, they were trying their hardest. The light they’d seen just moments ago had taken over their vision, and as it faded, they could still see it at then end of the alley. Though faint, it was there, and it was calling them. Biting the inside of their cheek, they followed the symphony of pulses in the air that had roped around their body, refusing to let go. It was comforting to know something had a hold of them, and something knew why they were out there, or who they were, for they couldn’t remember. The false tugging stopped and they stumbled forward, tripping on air. Their arms flailed around as they tried to latch on to something to keep themselves steady. It took a while, but they were back on their feet in no time. There was a sudden force that grabbed the back of their head and pushed it down, which forced them to see their reflection in a fresh puddle.

Dark skin stuck to a grey waistcoat that looked like something from…they couldn’t name the time period. With short black hair cut down, and soft brown eyes that were frantically scanning over themself, they gained the courage to peer down at the rest of their body. Black combat jeans were plastered to their legs, and their trainers were destroyed by the unfortunate downpour that must have occurred shortly before they awoke. As seconds passed, and they became more aware of their surroundings, they felt a cold band against their neck. They reached up, and with a single tug, held a snapped silver chain in the palm of their hand. Attached were two tags. The first had a phone number, the second had a name. “Lieut. Alexander James Lee-McNamara,” the man managed to force out, his voice rough. As soon as he’d spoken, there was another loud flash from the end of the alleyway, and the white light got brighter. The ball burned brighter, twisting and turning to swirling colours, and the white soon became pockets of greens, teals and blues sewn to the border of a black frame.

He, Alexander, felt compelled to walk towards whatever the frame held inside. He was oddly confident as he stumbled and walked closer and closer until there was something blocking him from moving. He didn’t find it bizarre, and instead stayed where he was as he watched the seams tear, and a figure spilled out. Whatever that was attached to the dark frame between both walls of the buildings was spitting blue ash on to the ground, and it spat and bounced like a small rubber ball. It didn’t concern Alexander, though. His eyes moved from the ground and up to the figure that was currently brushing himself off after landing disastrously on the gravelled floor.

A thick head of golden blonde hair that was complementary to his pale skin. He wore a black denim shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and on top of that he wore some sort of vest that, at a guest, was bulletproof. The man wore the same combat jeans as Alexander was wearing, but wore heavy boots. On his head, he wore a type of beret, and he had a similar chain to the one Alexander was holding tied around his neck. Their eyes met, except his were a piercing blue. Despite his appearance, he shuddered, and Alexander managed to realise that it was cold where he was. The man held out a hand, his left hand specifically, with a black watch on his wrist with gold and purple details on the face of it. On his ring finger, he wore two simplistic bands, and he raised an eyebrow. Logically, Alexander allowed himself to flick his eyes down to his own hand, to see two similar bands on his own left hand. Because of this one detail, the mysterious man had intrigued him, and Alexander tilted his head. As he did, another burst of pain swept over him, and a memory shaped of him and whoever the man was at a ceremony. A name appeared in front of him in bold black letters that went against the laws of the land that read Gen. Lee-McNamara. He looked back up to the figure, who’s hard façade had managed to vanish completely into thin air, as a relieved smile washed over him.

“Let me take you home, love. You don’t belong here.”

**Author's Note:**

> i do be like *casually peppers in the gays into my school work*
> 
> anyways don't leave criticism it's been a bad day plz and thanks positive energy only xoxo


End file.
